Ulysses (shipp’d, but in the even,
With all the presents he was given,
And sleeping then) is set next morn
In full scope of his wish’d return,
And treads unknown his country-shore,
Whose search so many winters wore.
The ship (returning, and arriv’d
Against the city) is depriv’d
Of form, and, all her motion gone,
Transform’d by Neptune to a stone.
Ulysses (let to know the strand
Where the Phæacians made him land)
Consults with Pallas, for the life
Of ev’ry wooer of his wife.
His gifts she hides within a cave,
And him into a man more grave,
All hid in wrinkles, crookéd, gray,
Transform’d; who so goes on his way.